


Laundry Day ( Like A Fool, Kinda Sick)

by Princess_Aleera



Category: Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Crush, Cas is so shy it hurts, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Sam has dimples, Super-shy, Swooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Aleera/pseuds/Princess_Aleera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Castiel and Sam go to the same Laundromat, and Castiel is physically incapable of making conversation whenever Sam smiles at him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>(Supernatural/Dr. Horrible fusion, not crossover; no spoilers for either fandoms)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Laundry Day ( Like A Fool, Kinda Sick)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiptoe39](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39/gifts).



> This is not a SPN/Dr. H crossover, so none of the latter's characters show up in this. However, this is very much based on the first scene of act 1. I hope you enjoy.

Castiel nudged the door open with his foot, swaying on his feet before he regained his balance and slipped through the crack he'd made and into the launderette. He put the giant basket of dirty laundry he was carrying ( _too big, why did he always forget to buy a smaller one, he must look like a moron right now_ ) down beside one of the available machines, pointedly _not_ looking to his right because Sam was there.

Sam always washed his laundry on Mondays and Thursdays at nine. And every other Saturday at noon.

... Not that Castiel knew that, of course.

He stuffed his clothes into the washing machine and glanced over at the tall man. Sam was humming to himself like he always did, reading some kind of heavy Law book while waiting for his wash to finish.

Castiel just wanted to go over and talk to him. Sam was... he was _Sam_ , okay. He had washed his laundry in the same place as Castiel for _years_ , and Castiel had fallen head over heels the very first time he'd seen him.

Slamming the lid shut with more force than necessary, Castiel startled at the loud noise he'd just made. He preferred being quiet and unnoticed, but now Sam glanced up and at him, giving him a quick grin before going back to his book.

Castiel cursed inwardly. He'd had a _plan_ this time. He'd known what to say. And now Sam had gone and, well, _smiled_ at him like they were friends or something, like Sam actually recognized him and considered him a fellow launderer. So now he couldn't remember the words. The words. What was he supposed to say?

Feeling an overwhelming urge to bang his head against the washing machine, Castiel sighed and fiddled with his plastic basket. _Hello. My name is Castiel. What's your name?_

_Hey, I'm Cas. Who are you?_

_Yo, wassup, bro?_

Castiel cursed again, under his breath this time. "I just really like you," he murmured.

Sam's eyes met his again, this time with a edge of amused curiosity. "Excuse me?"

Immediately Castiel's face went red, like a lobster. "Um, I- I- I said," he said and tried for a smile that must have made him seem like a psycho, "I really like the zoo. Heh." The grin widened until it was painful.

Sam frowned in confusion, but that gut-punchingly beautiful smile was still there. "Oh." And then back to his book.

Castiel swallowed his sob and sat down on the other side of the room, taking out his notebook to doodle. "So close," he muttered to himself, his voice lost in the rumble of the washing machines around him. "A couple of more weeks, now. You're almost there."

~*~

It was Thursday, ten past nine, and Sam wasn't there. Castiel chewed on his nails, absentmindedly writing down Latin inscriptions in his notebook. He sighed and tried not to mind. Sure, Sam never missed Thursdays unless he was sick, or in the holidays when he went to visit his brother ( _Castiel was not stalking him, okay? He just... overheard a phone conversation once_ ), but that didn't mean that he held some sort of _obligation_ to Castiel.

That would just be... ridiculous.

So Castiel swallowed his disappointment and stared at the clock, willing it to move faster. He tapped the pen against his notebook, before he eventually went back to doodling.

It was almost twenty-three minutes over when the door to the launderette opened and Castiel's heart surged.

He came. He was late, but Sam came. He was here. Now.

Then Castiel remembered that he was not supposed to be creepy, and promptly went back to staring down into his notebook. The happy fluttery feeling didn't go away, but that was okay, because it was something he could hide.

"Hey," Sam's gentle voice said somewhere in Castiel's nearby proximity, and he gulped and did _not_ look up.

"Castiel, right?" Sam asked, and Castiel yelped very, very quietly and glanced up - and up. Sam was so gloriously tall. If Castiel were a different man, he would have made jokes about climbing the man like a tree. As it was, he could barely look into those warm, brown eyes without feeling all the blood in his body rush to his face.

"You know my name?" Castiel blurted out.

"Of course I do," Sam grinned down at him. He was holding a paper bag in one hand. "We've been coming here for years, man."

"Um, ho- heh. Agh," Castiel said and coughed. "Hi," he tried instead, that familiar burn spreading across his cheeks. _Smooth. Very smooth._

"Hey, I was in the bakery shop just now and bought some frozen yoghurt, and they gave me two instead of one." Sam fished out two small cartons and two spoons. "And then they wouldn't let me give it back, so... do you like frozen yoghurt?" He smiled that _(I just want to drown in your eyes)_ warm smile.

"Ibbsd," Castiel replied with a dreamy smile. "Knistr. Mflu." And then he realized that those sentences didn't actually mean anything, and tried again. "Yes. I love frozen yoghurt."

Sam beamed at him and handed Castiel one of the cartons, and Castiel considered swooning - but thought that would be rude, since that would make him would drop the yoghurt. So instead he smiled back and shoved a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, providing him with a reason not to talk.

"So," Sam said and sat down next to him, and started eating. He didn't say anything else, and it didn't look like he was going to either.

Castiel was pretty sure he loved Sam.

~*~

Castiel rarely talked. Around Sam, anyway. Sam, though, Sam talked to Castiel. Every time they were at the Laundromat together, in fact ( _which was every time because Castiel had known Sam's schedule since forever_ ), Sam would come over to Castiel and ask a random question, or just say something odd.

"Hey, Cas, do you like purple?"

"Hey, Cas, have you ever done bungee-jumping?"

"Cas, when you were a kid, what did you want to become when you grew up?"

It was impossible to steel himself for Sam's questions, because they were never the questions Castiel was prepared for. It was disconcerting; Castiel liked having a script when he talked to people. Yet every time he talked to the Winchester, it felt like someone opened a window and all his notes flew away.

It was a strangely liberating feeling, amidst the nerve-wracking panic.

Sam's phone chirped now, and he fished it out of his pocket and checked the text message. Castiel, who had learned by now that it was socially acceptable of him to lean over a bit to show that he was interested in what the text said, leaned over.

"It's from Dean," Sam said easily. "He's being a dick."

Dean was Sam's older brother, and Castiel was curious about this man. Every time Sam talked about him, his face would glow with pride and his eyes would light up. And he would use his hands to gesture when he told stories about him and Dean when they were children, and Castiel would laugh because they were funny stories, but also because every time he did Sam's eyes would grow just a fraction fonder.

Castiel wanted to make Sam's eyes light up like that as often as possible.

"So what are you doing this Saturday?" Sam asked, putting his phone back in the pocket after texting a brief reply to his brother (Castiel read something like 'just ask him out, Dean, don't be a bitch about it', but he couldn't be sure).

"Nothing... special," Castiel said, thinking it might sound a bit sad if Sam thought he wasn't going to do _anything_. He was. He had... things. Important things.

He could not for the life of him remember exactly what they _were_ , at the moment, but they were undoubtedly important nonetheless.

"What about you?" Castiel asked, twirling his pen between his fingers in a practiced motion.

"I might be going on a date," Sam said, his smile never wavering.

Castiel dropped the pen. "Oh," he said. "Good. Fine. Nice, I mean that sounds _awesome_. For you." He picked up the pen. "Good. Cool." He smiled at Sam. "Fine."

Sam grinned, and the barest hint of pink stained his cheeks. "You wanna go out on Saturday, Cas?"

Castiel was surprised he didn't blow a gasket, judging by how fast all the blood in his body went to his face. It actually hurt a bit. "Blufg," he replied.

Sam laughed, a carefree, happy laugh that Castiel wanted to hang onto forever and keep in a jar to listen to when he was feeling down. ( _In a cute way. Not in a kill-and-hide-the-body-way._ ) "So, can I take that as a yes?"

"Why?" Castiel wheezed and clutched his pen. His lips were tingling, and he tried to take deep breaths. He failed spectacularly.

"I like you, Cas," Sam shrugged as if it was nothing more to it. Then he frowned. "You okay? You look a bit faint."

"Eep," Castiel said and cleared his throat. "It’s just- sometimes I forget to breathe when I'm put in an unexpected situation," he explained in a wheezy voice. His vision was darkening.

"Oh," Sam said and smiled. Then he blinked. "Wait-"

Castiel's world suddenly tilted and went a bit dark.

~*~

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said when Castiel re-emerged, finding himself on the floor. There were people bustling about, asking him if he was okay, and Castiel would have considered dying of embarrassment if he still wasn’t so woozy.

Castiel uttered a vaguely confused noise at Sam’s comment.

“I’m going at this the wrong way,” Sam said, and his eyes were big and brown and warm and sad. “I went too far, too fast- I’m sorry.”

“Yes,” Castiel sighed out and gave the tall man a tired smile. Post-faint he always felt a bit euphoric; he was positive it was a non-healthy reaction to the lack of oxygen. Oh well.

Sam blinked at him, like he didn’t quite know what to say. His face fell a fraction more.

“I mean yes, I would very much like to go out with you on Saturday, Sam.” Castiel scrunched his nose. “Did I not make that clear? That was terribly rude of me.”

Sam’s face split into that brilliant smile again. “You kinda fainted on me before you got that far,” he said and moved the hand he was resting against the back of Castiel’s head.

Huh. He hadn’t noticed that. “Oh yes, I suppose I did,” Castiel replied faintly, and with Sam’s help he got up from the floor. “Sorry.”

Sam waved the apology off. “Are you okay, though?” he asked with something suspiciously like worry, and his hand was still tangled in Castiel’s hair.

 _Don’t remove it,_ Castiel wanted to shout, but he didn’t. He just smiled and uttered a hazy “uh-huh.”

Sam’s eyes were so pretty when he smiled. “So… we’ll meet here on Saturday at noon, then? And I can take you out to lunch afterwards?”

Castiel frowned. “How did you know…” his head was pounding a bit now. Bad timing. He grunted and sat down, Sam sitting down with him.

“I, um,” Sam mumbled and bit his lip. He removed the hand from Castiel’s hair, but when the other man made a small disappointed noise, it was back, resting gently against the nape of his neck. “I sort of have your laundry schedule memorized,” Sam admitted, a slight flush tinging his cheeks. “But not in a creepy way, I promise,” he added quickly.

Castiel blinked. “You… have my laundry schedule memorized.”

“Yeah,” Sam mumbled and stared down at his free hand.

“Mondays and Thursdays at nine, every other Saturday at noon.”

Sam grinned sheepishly at him. “Except for those two weeks last month when you didn’t show up.”

“I was at my brother’s,” Castiel said absently, staring at the other man in something akin to awe.

“Oh,” Sam said and dared to look up at him. “Gabriel?”

Castiel nodded and slammed his lips against Sam’s.

~*~


End file.
